Review: Body & Soul, Sadler’s Wells

Pite kicks things off, and what a violent kick it is. Thirty-five years of choreography, her own company (Kidd Pivot), multiple shows at Sadler’s Wells, and flowers, flowers, flowers. We love Pite, although I am not sure if I am speaking for myself, the ballet, or the whole world. We start with a crumpled mess of black fabric and a body within. Under a hanging parnel light, Nancy Bryant has the dancers in the most gorgeous tailoring throughout. Think The Matrix, Hugo Boss (in the bad years), and current Balenciaga. Marina Hands’ disembodied French voiceover starts and never really stops. Describing “right, left, repeat, forehead, chin, neck, hip”, it is a little Simone (because France) says. In between, some melodic Frédéric Chopin and some much more modern, morphic music by Owen Belton scoop up the dancers as they thunder like a steampunk battalion.

Known for her group work, these scenes are, as always, obsessively staged. They stomp on, regimented and uniform, but fractures quickly form. At one point, there is a long-connected spine of arched suited backs, followed by spinning black beetles lost in the swarm, a plague of black and white. Duets claw their way out of the soil of the corps de ballet. There are odd moments of thwarted connection, snatched clashes of bodies, thrown limbs and glances, punctuated with the repeated “pause” from Hands. A spinning tableau of war appears, and a further scene resembles a firing squad with kneeling prisoners and snapping necks (a trade mark). Pite understands the fire-laced wind blowing globally and subtly exploring individuality, connection and community. We beg for more as the 30-minute comes to a close.

From the established to the up-and-comer, Kameron N. Saunders and his first major work for a dance company. From his work in pop alongside Lizzo and Taylor Swift to dancing in the films Spirited and The Color Purple, Saunders’ genre-crossing approach is integral to the piece. Putting the ENB’s Philharmonic to the test, we get three acts with very different tones, orchestrated by Brandon Finklea and Harold Walker III. Again exploring authority and identity (because is it possible not to in 2026?), we have another voiceover. In Kimie Nakano’s structured, futuristic white jumpsuit, a singular male struts onto the stage.  Physicalising the robot voice that explains a vague system/alien race/group, or mechanical overlord.

Out bursts the corps de ballet in flowing shirts and shorts in exuberant patterns. The choreography has a lightness and freeness that is infectious, but borders on cultish, especially when the dancers spin in circles around an inner core. Act Two is darker and sweat-sodden. Joshie Harriette creates a strip of light through which the dancers cavort, mainly backwards, peeling off clothes to reveal bare flesh or ribbed, nude-coloured shorts and tops.

In between cyborg-man from the beginning mechanically waddles on stage to explain the erosion of personal freedom. Finally, with the success of the entity, Act Three sees white sheets dropped and the stage transformed into a stark cube. All now dressed in the jumpsuits and silver visor-masks, the company springs and coils, looking like a 1980s idea of a mechanoid domination. This exploration of personal freedom, although arresting and perfectly danced, feels lacking in nuance. It has more of a music video’s drive than contemporary dance’s reconnaissance.

As well as partnering with the already stratospheric Pite, ENB director Aaron S. Watkin has made the important choice to break the 23-year gap in the company working with a Black director. Shared issues are explored with different approaches and uneven depth of perception, but in an age when personhood is under question, overarching discomfort is felt across the board.

Body & Soul
Choreography:  Crystal Pite
Music: Owen Belton & Frederic Chopin
Costume Design: Nancy Bryant
Voice: Marina Hand
Proper Conducts
Chorography: Kameron N. Saunders
Music: Brandon Finklea, Harold Walker III
Costume Design: Kimie Nakano

Body & Soul plays at Sadler’s Wells until Saturday March 28